While the healer laid hands,
I felt my breath return
move tentative and slow
from that tight, broken spot
near my heart
down into my belly
my soft, round
curvy belly
the one he never loved
the one I hid under layers
and blankets
and breath
So before I even finished
a poem called Things He Never Liked
I realized its last line was Me
and that broken spot was Him
a broken spot
found with breath
healed only
as I forgive
myself.
Poem ©2023, Jen Payne. #NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.
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